Simple Enough
by Makkoska
Summary: The morning after of drunk night changes how things are between Kaisar and Favaro for the better.


**Summary** : The morning after of drunk night changes how things are between Kaisar and Favaro for the better.

 **Notes** : I wanted nothing more than to have some fun by making the boys have fun, so this is a rather uncomplicated piece. A PVP maybe, though I prefer to call it a just-fuck-already-fic (JFAC for short). With the show still airing, I'm going with the assumption that the guys are alright and living happily ever after the events of Virgin Soul.

 **Warnings** : Mature rating, yaoi, but mostly harmless

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 **Simple Enough**

*/*/*

Kaisar liked things simple and straightforward. All in all, he was not a complicated man. He liked when things were at their places, wherever those were, when all seemed just right. So, he'd never over-thought why having Favaro near filled him with peace. It just felt right, so it had to be right, didn't it?

If he had been hard-pressed to give a reason why was that, he could say number of reasons. Like their shared childhood, when Favaro was his closest friend. He was not a friend approved by his father - how could he be, when he was so bellow him in rank - but that was just one more reason to like him. He was fun, disrespectful and adventurous, and Kaisar, in his young years, wanted to be just like him. Free of all the dull obligations of being a knight's son.

When the truth came crashing down on him, and he had to face how his friend was setting him up all the time, that he was responsible for his father's horrible fate, it hurt just as much as the death of his father.

Those years he'd chased after him, trying to live for nothing else but his revenge on Favaro, he hoped that spilling his false-friend's blood will finally soothe that burning emptiness his betrayal left in him.

Kaisar glanced down at the redhead and smiled softly. Favaro was snoring softly, face pillowed on his left arm resting on the table, his right grasping the handle of the mug, not letting go of his beer even in his sleep, although quite evidently, he had more than enough of the strong ale.

Those dark days were in the past. His relationship with his old friend was mended, and Favaro was now just as important to him then he had been when they were kids. The shorter man always kept up a face of being a wild, cowardly, loud and foul-mouthed scoundrel, caring about nothing but money, easy women and booze. Kaisar knew better. He knew Favaro to be a caring person, brave for those he cared for, not afraid of sacrifices. Even if his code of ethic left a lot to be desired, Kaisar had no reason to be ashamed to call him friend.

He drained the last of his beer, and stood. The inn spun around him alarmingly. He hadn't consumed near as much alcohol as his friend, but his tolerance towards it was lower as well. He took a steadying, deep breath and tried to wake the even drunker Favaro, however the bastard only muttered something unintelligible, and turned his head away.

Kaisar reached under his arm and hoisted him up on his feet. Still not letting go of his mug, Favaro spilled the rest of his beer on them, but seemed willing to let himself be supported up to the room they'd rented above the inn.

Keeping his own balance was difficult enough, so to steer very drunk, half asleep fiend of a man up the stairs was quite a challenge, but Kaisar managed with falling on their arses only once.

In their room he let Favaro sprawl out on one of the beds, and went to the corner hosting a washing bin and a pitcher filled with lukewarm water to wash his face and rinse the bitter taste of strong beer out his mouth. By the time he took off his outer clothing, the red-haired drunkard was asleep again, spread out on his back and snoring loudly.

They should have gotten a separate room, he thought, but was altogether too woozy and happy to be really bothered.

It was great to have Favaro near. His friend had the tendency to disappear for extended periods of time, bolting before Kaisar could talk about anything serious, like their friendship, their over two decades long connection, how he would like Favaro to settle down, have a more decent job than being a bounty hunter, that it would be great to get together frequently, like two old friends, to talk about their past, future plans, about their feelings… So, coming up with the idea of this trip, just the two of them together, visiting Nina in the village of dragonfolk, was his brilliant masterplan to ensure time together, to talk and being talked to.

Loud, drunk snoring was quite a hindrance to bonding though.

He sighed, then hiccupped softly, cursing the beer under his breath. Well, this was only the night of the first day of their journey, so they had plenty time still.

Feeling charitable, he went over to Favaro, to get him rid of his boots and armour. It was unexpectedly difficult to unbuckle them, not only because of the other's prone form, but because his own less than steady hands too. Heat rushed to his face, making him flush, and his mouth went dry, not solely because of the alcohol. He shook his head, trying to clear it from inappropriate thoughts. It was not the time or place, he reprimanded himself, while a small, mean voice in the back of his head whispered that it was apparently never the time or place.

Sighing again, he pushed a curly, red fringe out from Favaro's forehead, then let his fingers rest on the scar marking the otherwise soft face. How far and fast he would bolt if he learned Kaisar's long harboured feelings for him?

He let his hand linger on that obnoxious head for too long, as his friend stirred, opening his green eyes. Seeing him so close he flashed him a lazy, seductive smile. Kaisar's heart skipped a beat, then started to run fast when Favaro reached out to weave his arms around his neck and pulled him down on the bed.

The knight remembered the time when he had thought Favaro was a demon who deceived him all along, pretending to be a human, and realized he had been right. The redhead had to be a demon for doing this to him - as after embracing him so unexpectedly, Favaro just sighed contently and went back to sleep, not even stirring when Kaisar muttered curses, shifted to a more comfortable position and hugged him back, thinking he would stay like that only for a minute or two before crawling back to his own bed.

The beer and the body heat of the other man did their trick however and Kaisar fall into a deep, drunken sleep almost immediately.

*/*/*

Favaro liked things simple and straightforward. So, when he woke with a horrible headache and dry mouth, showing all the well-known symptoms of having a hangover, with a heavy heat of a body pinning him to the bed, he could do nothing but frown. He knew the situation meant trouble, when things were not simple and straightforward at all.

He opened his lazy lids to a crack and concluded he just made the understatement of the century. Sleeping with angelic peace on top of him and hugging him tightly was none other than Kaisar Lidfard. Favaro groaned.

What the hell happened last night? He vaguely remembered Kaisar helping him to their room, but nothing about getting in bed with him.

Bloody Kaisar. He always just appeared in Favaro's life, and messed things up.

Ignoring the rhythmic pounding in his skull, he raised his head to assess the situation. Thanks all the Gods, they were still mostly dressed. Maybe they didn't do anything, simply fell into a drunk stupor.

It was silly to feel disappointed.

They had this weird dance around each other with the knight since their adolescence. Or maybe it was only Favaro dancing, Kaisar being blissfully ignorant of his internal struggles.

When they were in their teens, maybe it would have been, could have been easier. Despite their different backgrounds, upbringing and personalities they were best friends from childhood. But there was that one thing Favaro never shared, about his father being a bandit. Kaisar was not just of noble birth and a knight's son, be had a strict code of honour too. Favaro had never been sure he would be forgiven and accepted with such a parent.

When lust first started to mix with his feeling of friendship, this secret kept him back from acting on it. Or maybe it was the fear of losing Kaisar, to see disgust, despise on this handsome face, if Favaro came out. The son of a thief, wanting sex with the Lidfard heir. It was an absurd concept.

Keeping that secret to himself didn't prevent their connection from being shattered when their fathers died. For years Kaisar chased after him, wanting revenge, and Favaro acted on being a scoundrel, giving his friend a reason to keep on going and not to dwell on the past.

When their relationship was mended so unexpectedly, Kaisar welcomed him back warmly. He always had that certain look in his blue eyes, looking at Favaro with caring, affection. Yet it was knowing too, as if he wanted to say the bounty hunter could no longer keep secrets from him.

Favaro hated it. He wanted to run away from it, before Kaisar really found out secrets that very well may be the end of their connection for good. He wanted to… he needed to…

Pee. Right now.

His musings interrupted by his full bladder, he wriggled his way out from under Kaisar. The taller man mumbled something in his sleep, and burrowed his face into the pillow in a manner Favaro would have found sickeningly endearing under different circumstances. Right then however he was too busy dragging up his boots and dashing out the room in search of a toilet.

He found it in the very last minute. Feeling a lot better, he spotted a maid, and asked for some water to wash himself. She giggled at his dishevelled state, but he also caught her eyeing his naked chest when he took off his crumpled, sweaty shirt. Feeling refreshed and fortified by some not-so-innocent flirting with the girl, he braved back to the room.

Kaisar was lying on his side, facing the door. He opened his eyes lazily when Favaro came in and smiled. He didn't seem fully awake yet, maybe he wasn't even aware of their surroundings. His long, dark hair escaped the ridiculous prison of a hairstyle he normally forced it into, and spilled around his face. He was prettier than any girl, pretty like no man in his mid-thirties had any right to be, yet he was undeniably masculine too. Favaro's confused longing returned like it was never gone.

He kept a straight face, of course.

"You're finally awake!" he jeered, although it was pretty early in the morning still. "You are such a sissy when it comes to alcohol, Kaisar!"

The tall man drew his brows together in annoyance, but then he just smiled, sitting up. The sheet slid off from him, revealing he was in his undergarments only, showing off his long, firm arms and legs. Favaro's throat went dry.

"I recall dragging you up here," the knight shot back, "after you have fallen asleep down at the inn. You didn't seem much better holding your booze than I did."

He stood up on apparently shaky legs and looked around for his clothes. Spotting them, he quickly dragged up his trousers. Favaro was disappointed to see all that skin hidden away, but could comfort himself with ogling his arse as he bent over to pull on his boots. Then Kaisar was right in his face, and the redhead's hungover brain was too slow to catch up what was happening.

It didn't make thinking easier either that all his blood seemed to rush down, into his groin. His old friend was close, too close, all messy hair, pretty face, absurdly long lashes, soft mouth and wide shoulders. He made a funny sound in the back of his throat, that was supposed to come out as _What are you doing?_ but ended up sounding _Waaaa?_

"Favaro," Kaisar said his name softly, almost breathed. "Favaro…"

 _I'm going to kiss him now,_ the bounty hunter decided. Fuck possible consequences or the horrible morning breath they both had. He was going to do it, now or never…

"Favaro…" Kaisar said again. "I really, really need to use the toilet."

"What…?"

"You are blocking the way."

Favaro sat down on the edge of the bed as the taller man rushed out, gripping his head between his palms.

"You are getting me into an impossible situation again," he told his half-hard prick.

He allowed himself a minute or two to wallow in self-pity. Over Kaisar, how agreeing to this trip together was a bad idea, cursing his treacherous body for reacting to the knight's nearness as if he was a bloody brat still.

He needed to get out of here. Sure, he'd hurt the other man's feelings if he disappeared, but that was still better than ruining their connection forever when Favaro didn't manage to contain himself any longer and jumped him.

He sprung up. Escaping was his specialty. He looked around for his stuff, dragging on the rest of his clothing in a hurry. This was the best he could do.

 _You can't go without leaving a note. Kaisar would be worried, not knowing where you disappeared to,_ an annoyingly responsible-sounding voice whispered in the back of his head. He tried to chase it away, but it was insistent. It sounded like Rita.

"Bloody hell," he growled, looking frantically around for pen and paper. He fished out a crumpled _Wanted_ poster from his backpack. The back of it would to. Now for a pen. He glanced at Kaisar's bag. "If you want a note, you'd better have a pen," he muttered, starting to dig through it without further ado.

He just found the pen and a tightly sealed bottle of ink, when the door opened and Kaisar walked in. He was combing his hair back with his fingers, but upon seeing the bounty hunter rummaging through his stuff he let it fall around his face. The door shut behind him with an ominous bang.

Favaro straightened out, and flashed a forced-feeling grin at the knight.

"Were you trying to steal from me?" Kaisar asked him slowly.

"No!" Favaro denied, honestly affronted. "Just who do you think…"

"If you need money, you know that you can just tell me. I hope you know that I would happily…"

"But I was NOT trying to steal from you!" Favaro raised his voice, cutting him off.

"But then what _were you_ trying to do?"

"I was looking… I needed… a tissue!"

"A tissue?"

"Yes!" Now more confident with his lie, Favaro grinned again. Then remembered he was accused of being a thief, so tried to put on a gloomy expression. "I caught some cold, and needed a tissue urgently. But _you_ had to assume the worst of me, of course."

"I apologise, I certainly shouldn't have…" that blue glance landed on Favaro's hands, and Kaisar fall silent, frowning. The bounty hunter followed his gaze and realized he still had the pen, ink and paper in his grasp. _Bloody flying fuck._

Kaisar wasn't the fastest thinker out there, but he could put two and two together if faced with evidence. His arched brows drew together with not puzzlement, but anger this time.

"I just…" Favaro started, but he was ridden over.

"You were going to leave!"

The redhead opened his arms and shrugged his shoulders, putting on his best I-care-about-nothing-in-this world expression. He didn't even know why he bothered, when Kaisar had been able to see through it for years. He was right in his face in an instant, eyes dark with fury. He plucked the stationary out from his resisting hands, tearing the _Wanted_ poster, and throwing them away, against the wall.

"Lucky the bottle of the ink didn't shatter," Favaro tried, but the knight wasn't to be deterred.

"Just _why_ were you trying to leave? Why is this Favaro? Who are you running from…?" he trailed off, probably realizing the only person the bounty hunter could possibly want to run in current situation was him.

He looked so terribly hurt by it. Favaro would have preferred him shouting and drawing his blade. He wanted to flatter himself that his heart was cold as stone, but in truth it was nothing like, especially not when it was about this damn knight he just couldn't be rid of.

"You are a real pest. A leech," he said softly. It sounded way too fond to his own ears, but Kaisar made a face as if he slapped him.

"I don't know what I did for you to say that," he said stiffly. "Or why you felt the need to sneak away without saying a thing…"

"Hey, I wanted to leave a note…"

He just couldn't stand it anymore. Those sad, blue eyes, that handsome face so open with his emotions. I was really now or never, and apparently, he couldn't make the situation any worse.

He grabbed Kaisar's shoulder when he tried to turn away, and dragged him back towards himself, to press his lips against his _finally._ It was strange to kiss someone who was taller than him, but he gave his best. The knight gasped, and Favaro risked a glance at him. There wasn't any refusal in those blue eyes, only surprise.

"You see, this is why…" he started, but Kaisar just smiled, grasped the back of his head, and kissed him this time.

*/*/*

Favaro's lips were soft against his. Kaisar had fantasised about this plenty of times, even though his desire for the other man tended to fill him with guilt and confusion. But right then, when it was finally happening, all he felt was joy and the longing for more.

He only stepped back when the need for air became impossible to ignore. They stared at each other, panting slightly. Kaisar knew he was looking like a mess. His undone hair was tangled around his face, he had his sweaty, crumpled yesterday's clothes on. His cheeks felt hot - surely, he was red as a tomato and he had an erection tenting his pants. Maybe this was still the effect of the alcohol. Maybe he was still asleep, and only dreaming.

Favaro seemed unaware of his unease. He took a good look at him and smiled in satisfaction. Kaisar opened his mouth, though he had no idea what he was going to say.

"To hell with it," Favaro growled and sprung himself at him, tackling both of them to the bed. The knight decided that thinking about the situation could wait.

His friend's lips slid down to his neck, placing biting kisses on the sensitive skin there. Quite to his embarrassment, Kaisar moaned. His hands, seemingly on their own volition rose and grasped onto those thick, red curls. This seemed only to pique Favaro's enthusiasm further. He shifted on top of the taller man, kissing, sucking biting. His hips made little humping motions, and Kaisar could feel him being just as hard as he was.

This brought the knight back to his senses somewhat. He tugged on the other's hair, then pulled on it rather harshly to make the other stop.

"Ouch, what's your problem?" Favaro sat back on his heels. He looked debauched. His hair was a flaming mess of a bird nest and his face was just as red. Unnoticed to Kaisar before, he got rid of his shirt. It was extremely difficult not to stare at his bare chest or at the obvious tent in his trousers.

"Favaro…" Kaisar started. His voice was throaty. "We can't… we need to stop before it's too late. We both drank too much last night, that's why…" he trailed off, looking at the other, hoping he would understand.

Favaro pulled down one corner of his mouth in a pout and raised his eyes heavenward. He seemed to ponder over the situation. He then shrugged.

"That's bullshit."

"What? No! Just _think_ for a moment," Kaisar said angrily, but he didn't make an attempt to stop the other when he reached to unbutton his shirt as well. "If you used your head just once," Favaro giggled at this, which the knight didn't understand, so he ignored, "you would also understand why this is the worst idea ever." Favaro scooted closer, unhooking the buttons on his shirt too and following his fingers with his mouth, placing kisses down on his chest. It felt good. "Not just we are both men, which already makes it complicated, but I also have a social status to maintain. As for you…"

"I, luckily, don't have a social status," Favaro smirked up at him. His hands were on Kaisar's thighs, sliding slowly but surely closer and closer to his groin.

"Maybe not, but you still have," the dark-haired man's voice broke as the other's palms reached its goal and cupped at the bulge he found there, but then he heroically continued, "a… reputation."

"A what?" Favaro snorted.

"What would others say of you if they've learned…" he grasped the bounty hunter's wrist when he started to unbuckle his pants.

"I frankly don't give a shit about what anyone says. Kaisar," he said his name with surprising serenity. "I want you. Tell me one good reason why we shouldn't do this."

"I don't want to lose you," Kaisar confessed honestly. "I don't want to lose our friendship."

Favaro pulled back and it was impossible not to be disappointed. He appeared to consider this last objection.

"Look, Kaisar," he said at last. "I'm not a good friend. We both know that I'm actually a horrible friend. But I'm a great lover." He grinned, although the knight could see the uncertainty and fear he was always so careful to hide reflecting in the depth of his green eyes. Strangely, that almost-hidden vulnerability was what reassured him. This seemed just as important to Favaro than it was for him. He wasn't taking it lightly.

"Will this change our relationship?"

"Sure, it will," Favaro laughed. "For the better, I hope. I'm going to scratch a twenty years old itch." At Kaisar's raised eyebrow he added, "I wanted to have sex with you for quite a while now."

"Then, why didn't you?" he asked, honestly baffled. As an answer Favaro was on him again, fingers seeking out his cock through his pants, then fumbling with his laces. He dragged his boots and trousers down, leaving Kaisar half reclined on the bed, dressed in nothing but an unbuttoned shirt. He felt quite self-conscious with his friend eyeing his hard prick, wearing an appreciating expression.

"What are you doing?" he asked on a low voice when Favaro crouched between his spread thighs.

"Using my head for once, as you suggested," the redhead devil laughed, and took Kaisar's cock in his mouth. The knight fell back on the bed, gasping. It was a lot more than he ever dared to imagine doing with Favaro, and honestly it was a lot better than he managed alone with his guilt-ridden fantasies and his right hand.

Soft lips slid down, further than he thought it possible on his shaft, then up, that wicked tongue flicking against the tip of his cock. Kaisar moaned his friend's name, grasped his hair again and tried his best to resist the urge to shove his prick as deep as possible into the other's hot mouth. Favaro gripped his hips and started to build up a steady rhythm. Kaisar had to bite down on his own hand to keep his gasps in.

Favaro glanced up at him at that, smirked around his cock and started to work him even harder. The knight was at the edge all too soon. He pulled on the red hair urgently, but his friend didn't raise his mouth off from him.

"Favaro, Favaro stop, I'm going to…" he managed, but the other man just looked him in the eye, and _sucked._ Kaisar's back arched in a bow and he was coming, orgasm more intense than anything he'd felt before. His friend didn't lift his lips from his cock until he had anything left to give.

He then rolled next to him on the bed, looking smug. Glancing at the panting knight, a slight concern clouded his expression.

"Hey, Kaisar. This wasn't your first time or anything, was it? I mean, there's no rule that the captain of the Orleans Knights has to be a virgin, is there? You've had sex before."

"Of course, I had sex before," Kaisar snapped. "It just doesn't happen too often," he added truthfully, "nor was I with another man before."

That seemed to please Favaro for some reason. He smiled without glee, and turned to kiss him. It should have been disgusting after where his mouth had been, but Kaisar didn't mind.

"I don't want to push, but I'm more than ready for round two," Favaro whispered against his lips. Kaisar glanced down. He didn't notice when, but his friend got rid of his own trousers and booths at one point. He was the master of unobserved undressing. His hard cock was pressing against Kaisar's legs insistently.

Hoping that he was successfully masking his nervousness, Kaisar smiled at him.

"What would you like?" he asked. The dark, lustful glaze the other cast at him made his heart beat faster again.

*/*/*

Favaro wanted _everything._ He wanted Kaisar's hand on his cock, his _mouth_ on his cock, hell yes. He wanted to kiss him, bite him, touch him. He wanted to feel that heavy prick against his. He wanted everything because this could be his only chance. But most of all…

"Will you let me fuck you?"

There was a flicker of fear in those blue eyes, understandably, as it was surely far beyond the range of the knight's experience. Truth to be told, though Favaro had his escapades with men as well, he wasn't that advanced in this matter either. But Kaisar didn't need to know that and be even more nervous.

"Yes…" his friend said slowly, and Favaro's dick gave a little jump of excitement. He urged the taller man to turn to his stomach. He had such a nice, long, muscled back. Favaro couldn't resist lingering, placing butterfly kisses along his spine.

The knight's muscles were tense, and the bounty hunter felt a bit guilty for pushing him. Still, he wanted this more than anything.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered in his ear. Such a question, when he'd always gone out of his way to make himself mistrusted. Yet Kaisar just looked back over his shoulder and smiled up at him.

"You better live up to your self-proclaimed title of being a great lover," he teased.

"I sure am!" he beamed back.

He took his time with kisses and soft touches until Kaisar seemed to relax, before reaching for his pack to find the phial of oil he knew was there. It wasn't the most suitable thing - it was already suspicious as Rita made it, and she said it was for sore muscles, but hey. Next time he'd ask for something better. It would be priceless to see her expression when she learned why he needed it. Though she might want to murder him. She was more the protective of the knight. He shook his head. Enough of Rita, really.

Kaisar did a little jump when his fingers touched his arse, and hid his face in the pillow when they slid into the crack and pressed against his hole. Favaro by this point was so keyed up, he was afraid he'd come just from watching his index finger slowly, oh-so-slowly slide up into the other man's body. He tried to think of unappealing things - a drunk Bacchus snoring, Azazel's purple lips, the horror when his hair was shaved in prison - but they weren't helping much as he worked on loosening up his friend enough.

"Ok, I'm going to do it now," he announced on a shaky voice. "You okay?"

Kaisar mumbled something unintelligible, and nodded into the pillow. Favaro guided his cock into his opening, and pushed in. He bit his lower lip, sweating with an effort to go slowly. He lost his composure only at the very end, slamming his hips in too roughly.

Kaisar groaned something about the Gods and Heaven. He was biting on the pillow.

"Sorry, I'm...sorry," he offered, hips moving on their own will.

"Fine, just…" Kaisar raised up on his knees, looking for a more comfortable position. Favaro slid his palm down firm chest his taut stomach. All those exercises he claimed to never miss was showing on his body. His fingers brushed the other's cock and was overjoyed to find him hard again.

"Let's try this," he muttered, pulling out and pushing in carefully, trying to stroke the other's erection in sync. Judging from the deep moan that evoked, it was working well.

They built up a rhythm, slow at first. Kaisar rested his forehead on his arms, his arse high up in the air. He wasn't very noble looking right now, so wanton with his soft moans, disarrayed hair and hard dick, his backside moving back to meet his lover's thrusts.

Favaro would have teased him, if he was in the right mind for it, but he was too far gone on his spiral of arousal. He had to stop stroking Kaisar's prick and grasp his hips with both hands to move more freely. He was thrusting faster now, no rational thought remaining in his mind just the need to find his release. This was Kaisar, he was having sex with the man he lusted after for two decades, handsome, righteous, sometimes annoying, trustworthy Kaisar, who had always been present in his life, who he had deeper connections with than anyone else.

His orgasm was sudden, shaking his whole body. He groaned, or yelled something, maybe a simple _yes!_ or _Kaisar!_ he didn't know or care. He held on tight as with wave after wave he came into the other's body.

His softened prick slid out of Kaisar's arse and he dropped down on his back next to him. He was blissfully free of thoughts and utterly satisfied. The taller man shifted, and he opened his eyes with an effort to look at him.

Blue eyes met his. He couldn't read his expression and that scared him. He reached out and pulled him close. Kaisar fall on top of him heavily.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Kaisar nodded, but he also thrust his groin against his hips, letting him know he was still hard. Favaro grinned, and reached down to take him in his hand.

"So, maybe I lied," he whispered, working on bringing the knight off for a second time. "And I'm not a great lover."

"You did fine…as much as I can tell." He was close now, Favaro was sure, so he sped up.

"But that's the point. You don't really have a basis for comparison. I have to practice - with you."

Kaisar groaned, grabbed his shoulders, thrusted against his palm hard one, two, three times, and spilled his seed on his fingers.

He lay down next to him, panting, and Favaro wiped his hand clean on the already ruined sheet.

"Does that mean you won't be running off again?" the knight asked him after a few minutes. Favaro glanced at him, surprised. His friend seemed inappropriately serious given what they had been just doing. He had the urge to just crack a joke, but he felt he couldn't come out well from it.

"I am who I am," he said slowly, turning on his side and placing his hand on the other's muscled stomach. "But you know that I've always been coming back to you. It's not as if I can leave you."

Kaisar seemed to contemplate that. He nodded and smiled, pulling him close.

"That will do for now," he said, and kissed him. "We can work on your liability skills too, later."

He laughed, and as indignant as Favaro had any right to be, he found himself laughing along with him.

 **FIN**


End file.
